


Rebel Rebel

by tainara_black



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol and Drugs, Anal Sex, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, Little Compton Street, M/M, Marauders, Rimming, Sex, Sirem, Sirius Black Fest, Sirius Black Fest 2020, Sirius has long hair, but there was david bowie concerts, if you don’t know what it is I’ll explain: it’s a cock piercing, mentions of AIDS in the 70s 80s, mentions of people dying of AIDS, more blowjobs than I should be allowed to write, original trans female character - Freeform, prince Albert piercing, sirius black is a bit lost, sirius fucks around a bit, the blowjobs are not going to break your heart this time, there was no war AU, there’s fingering, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27488827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tainara_black/pseuds/tainara_black
Summary: Sirius has just turned twenty and life is changing around him, blossoming, like Remus wrote in his last letter.This is a story about life and exploration, about feeling lost and finding oneself in other people's bodies, about building love and community. This is a story about hope and sex and growing up.Or: There was no war, so Sirius Black goes to David Bowie's concerts, has lots of sex, falls in love and finds a path he would like to follow.
Relationships: Sirius Black & Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 15
Kudos: 83
Collections: Sirius Black Fest 2020





	Rebel Rebel

**Author's Note:**

> First of all: trans women are women. <3  
> Warning: excessive use of Bowie’s lyrics (Rebel Rebel and Life on Mars). Title taken from Rebel Rebel for obvious reasons.  
> A massive thank you to [OllieMaye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OllieMaye/pseuds/OllieMaye) for the amazing beta work she did on this fic in such a short amount of time, and for hyping me about rare pairs and OCs, you are a blessing <3\. And to J for the always there plot-discussion and our ad aeternum Sirius-crush.  
> The magical street mentioned in a few scenes comes from [Writcraft's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft) Drarry fic [Little Compton Street (One Rainy Night in Soho)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16025378/chapters/37401098) . If you haven't read it, you most definitely should, because it is one of the best fics in the whole world. Though you don’t need a prior understanding of the magical street to read Rebel Rebel.  
> The voice I used in this fic was unashamedly experimental and very influenced by Caio Fernando Abreu’s short stories (so, if you like gay writers that lived through dicatorships in very homophobic countries during the AIDS boom period, you should give Caio Fernando Abreu a try. He is Brazilian, not much of his work was translated, but he is definitely one of the best writers I’ve ever read).
> 
> Prompt #39: there was no war.

**Rebel Rebel**

Sirius’ whole body is in a glorious frenzy. 

He remembers hearing someone once saying that the body is a party, but this is the first time that his body feels like a real party. The music beat is strong and rhythmic and it’s vibrating the ground, the beat so strong it travels up his body and the thumps-thumps of the bass mix up with the beats of his heart. People scattered all around are dancing and jumping and moving and laughing, and he has never been happier.

He’s just turned twenty and life is changing around him, blossoming, like Remus wrote in his last letter. 

Sirius spent the last three months on the road throughout Europe with Marlene and Gideon, but now they are back to London and the city is boiling with _life_. 

Marlene is shouting and jumping a few feet away, her hair dancing with the breeze; her round greyish sunglasses making her look like Janis Joplin and he can’t quite hear her with the music so loud. The lights are blinking and shining in different colours and he absolutely loves Muggle concerts. Then, suddenly, Dorcas is pressing her feet sharply against his ribs and pulling on his hair, making Sirius look up to her, sitting on his shoulders with a massive grin and a pint of stout in a huge plastic cup and she is muttering something, and the lights are making her short pixie blonde hair look blueish.

He needs to read her lips to make sense of the words. And she is saying “ _God is among us_ ” and pointing to the stage. 

And Sirius’ breath is completely blown away when his eyes focus on David Bowie.

The cigarette falls from his lips and Sirius grabs on Dorcas’ ankles, grounding himself. And this is a dream come true, like watching a miracle happen in front of his eyes, because Bowie is already singing that _you've got your mother in a whirl, she's not sure if you're a boy or a girl_ and Sirius' eyes are stinging. 

Everyone is shouting and singing and Sirius is paralysed. He wishes Remus and James were here. But Remus is burning his already freckled nose on a sunny Greek island for his second year of his _Curse Breaker practicum._ And James and Lily are visiting James’ family in Cardiff this weekend. 

Sirius wants to share this moment with them, so he holds on to Dorcas and starts singing along while the tears come down his face. He tries to record it into memory as clearly as possible, to show them later the day he watched God shining like magic on a Muggle stage. 

ººº

They took something with those guys from the camper van at the beginning of the gig and it hits him in the last half of the concert. Sirius feels it from inside out. It’s like the colours and lights are more vibrant—they pulse in tandem with the music, and every little thing is sparkling.

Dorcas is not on his shoulders anymore: he can see her dancing with Marlene a few feet away, throwing her arms up the sky, eyes shining like small sapphires. Marlene flashes her tits and tosses her hair from one side to the other, tee-shirt rolled up to her armpits. And Sirius laughs. 

His long hair is all messy, and his back and neck are sweaty and hot and his pint is too warm and there’s a witch staring at him from the other side of the dancing masses. Sirius is probably very high, because she is wearing a proper witch’s hat, pointy with a small golden buckle tucked on top of the hat flap. He laughs harder because this is exactly the type of hat cousin Bella would wear, and someone had the balls to wear it in a Muggle concert. 

And whatever it is they took with the camper van hippies, it’s good. It’s strong and it probably has some kind of aphrodisiac in it, because his temperature is higher and he could use a fuck—his skin feels deliciously tingly and his cock is hard, and he tosses his hair over his shoulder, staring at the pointy-hat witch and she smiles provocatively at him. It’s decided quickly: Sirius finishes his cigarette and walks to her; she is walking in his direction and they meet halfway and she is made of a tall, mysterious beauty that makes him feel breathless. 

_Gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous_ . She feels so magical. And while Bowie is singing about some _sailors fighting in the dance hall_ , Sirius is laughing against her lips, and she smells of mint and cloves and something mysterious—his hand is on her waist, and the mischievous glint on her eyes are fiery. Her nose touching his cheekbones is making him horny as fuck, and her full eyebrows and her dark eyes, and the pointy hat, and the way she feels flat-chested against his chest and he wants her like mad.

She is whispering her name against his ear, slow and sinful. He is not sure he got it right, but that’s not a problem, because they are kissing and she takes the lead and he loves it, and she can take the lead as much as she wants. 

The end of the concert leaves him with a surge of crazy energy he hasn’t felt since James and Lily’s wedding last year, since the last time he was with Remus, since the last time he had him deep inside his body in that frenzied, trembling feeling. He feels out of his body and he sees Marlene and Dorcas snogging while people are starting to leave—he should have seen that coming. 

The pointy-hat witch pulls him by the wrist to a back alley where her Muggle car is parked; soon enough they are hot and sweaty and she tongues his ear while they scramble out of their clothes in the back seat of the car and her skin feels silky against his fingers. He feels drunk and delicious and crazy in the best way, their hair in disarray, their tongues licking and playing. He moves her dress up, slides her panties off and laughs delightedly, feeling feverish and otherworldly. She smirks at him and grabs his hair, pressing her heels against the seat, pushing her hips up and he takes her in his mouth and she groans when Sirius swallows her down. They end up in a mess of heated limp limbs, and he grunts delighted when she comes in bittersweet splurts in the back of his throat. 

ººº

Raya is a half French Mggleborn. She is staying in a tiny flat in a small alley close to Diagon. She makes her own hormonal potions in the Muggle stove of her badly-lit kitchen in a medium-sized copper cauldron. He loves it. They spend the rest of her vacation days in a bout of sex and Muggle punk-clubbing, getting high and discovering hidden Muggle Gay pubs and bars and clubs. Sometimes they roam Little Compton Street and he makes friends with her small queer community—that is sadly and slowly diminishing due to a Muggle disease. They talk about tattoos and music and politics. But she is going back to France in less than a month. 

Late one night, after a few beers, he tells her about Remus in a small voice, in the dark of his bedroom, like a secret. About the best friend he misses so much, that is actually much more than a best friend, that lives so far away and is not around for all these small discoveries. They eat cheap Muggle food out of cardboard containers and she laughs and paints his lips with blood-red lipstick and kisses him until his chin is all smeared with lippy and saliva and she kisses down his spine. Her fingers play with his ugly tattoos, sparse chest hair and the trimmed path down his navel and she explains to him why friends are the best lovers, her smeared red lips touching the soft swell of his arse. She eats him out, makes him come with an insistent tug of her fingers, and cuddles him with such care, talking enthusiastically about the Potioneering mastery she is starting soon. 

He knows he will miss her dearly once she’s gone.

Sirius asks her about love, when they are lying on her couch one lazy morning, and Raya laughs at him, telling him love is about sharing and that she is not made for monogamous affairs and they laugh as her tongue plays with his Prince Albert piercing. She asks about it and he mutters in a rushed tone about a drunken night about a year ago, because once upon a time, a friend said cock piercings were hot. Goddamn, and how the intensity of his want to show his PA piercing to this specific friend is actually obscene and makes Sirius want to cry and pray and forget all about him. 

And before he comes all over her sinfully swollen lips, she mutters, “Oh, the Remus boy,” and Sirius is saying _yes yes Remus_ , and touching his fingers against the crinkled edges of her beautiful eyes. 

ººº

Sirius is working in a Muggle bar; he has been job-hopping like crazy for more than a year. 

He doesn't really know what to do next. He hasn’t relied on his family since the summer of his 6th year, when his parents discovered his proclivities to suck cock and kicked him out. So he tries to manage with informal jobs and the money his Uncle Alphard left him as an inheritance. That’s how he bought the tiny kitchenette close to Candem, so he just needs to keep up with the bills and make a bit extra for travelling. He wants to visit Remus once before he finishes his course in Greece, because in the letters Moony describes the village as otherworldly and he cannot wait to see it, and to swim naked in the ocean and bake in the sun and get all caked with sand.

Before Raya leaves though, she talks to him about France, about him visiting sometime, about him promising to think about his life a little bit more. _Not only the bills_ , she presses, saying he needs to find what gives him joy and purpose; but he can only think of Remus and playing Quidditch with James. And she laughs at him and they move from bar to bar in Little Comptom Street, slowly getting shitfaced and by the end of the night, Sirius is fucking her against a bathroom wall, staring deeply at her midnight eyes and muttering how much he will miss her. _You have no idea, Ray_. 

Sirius feels bad about the stories they have to tell in the little Wizarding queer community: about people dying, about disease, about a lack of information, and it makes him want to cry, because this is exactly what his mother would expect of _poofs_ , screaming at him: _to die with a nasty disease, is what your lot deserves_. And he presses his face on Raya’s neck and savours her scentand he hopes, he only hopes, to see her again, to know that there will be a future for all of them. 

But it’s all so terribly scary. 

He is helping her pack the next day, a growing pain inside his chest and she keeps talking, moving her hands in the air and saying that he should, _you know_ , really should tell Remus. 

“Tell him what?” he asks dumbly and she laughs at his face, a thick eyebrow going up.

“About your dick piercing, what else?” and rolls her eyes while he gapes at that. “That you like him, Sirius,” is what she finally clarifies. “That you have been in love with him forever now.”

But he shuts her up with long wet kisses, because he doesn’t want to talk about Remus, or about how long he have been in love with him, or about how scared he is of losing his best friend if he ever dares to open his big mouth to talk about his stupid crush. 

And then she is gone and Sirius is left with a fuckton of things to think about in the unbearably long stretches of silence of her absence. 

So he reconnects with Peter and James and they start doing pub nights again when James is not in Auror training and Peter is not in his boring Ministry work. But it’s not the same—it’s not like Hogwarts and it’s also not like having queer friends, even though they are friendly enough and open-minded enough. For now, the worst that ever happened was Peter sputtering his lager all over the table at the mere mention of cock. And Sirius likes to mess with him, but it’s not the same. 

By Christmas Day, when he is lying cosily on the Potters’ sofa, James and Lily tell him the news of the unplanned pregnancy and they all cry and laugh and dance, and James and Sirius get drunk. He tells them he hopes Prongslet’s generation will have it easier on the topic of being queer. And they cry again and eat the rest of the Christmas pudding before going to bed.

And he misses Raya. He misses Little Compton Street. So he brings Marlene and Dorcas with him to the pubs and bars and sadly, there are familiar faces missing in the crowd. He goes around asking and discovering another story of disease and sadness and heartbreak, and he asks himself if he could be the next one and keeps buying large packs of Muggle condoms and adding new protection spells to the list.

He gets drunk more often than not and writes to Remus, tells him about Muggle concerts and AIDS and about the diminishing population of Little Compton Street. He keeps coming back and getting drunk with the patrons and listening to the stories with a stinging feeling in his eyes. He asks the activists what can he do, what can they all do to change it? And they talk shit about pure-blood old laws and discrimination and about poor health care and something starts sparkling in the back of his mind. 

ººº

The course of life is slightly changing by the end of February. 

It’s wet and cold and miserable, and Sirius can’t stand his mindless job at the secondhand clothes shop anymore, so he resigns again, thinking that he’s shit for pants and goes home earlier. That week, Raya writes to him about her breakthrough in potion-making and Remus calls him on the Muggle telephone and Sirius cries; he sits on the goddamn floor and cries, because he is so uncertain of his own path and he misses Moony. 

He wishes so much that he had supportive parents. 

He sees Regulus sometimes, and the little shit is paving his way up to the Wizemgamot seats as the future Lord Black once father retires. He asks himself what life would’ve looked like had his parents been different, but Regulus tells him to stop this because it won’t change reality, and reality is that Sirius has a lot of friends who love him, and that’s much better than nothing at all. Regulus also says Sirius can count on him and that he can smuggle Black money his way if he ever needs. He smirks mischievously at that and asks if Sirius has any jellyweed back at his flat. They end up talking about their shit childhood trauma, sitting on Sirius’ old stained sofa and laughing themselves silly. So he makes an effort to see his brother more often. 

He also starts doing some activism for queer rights and reading about it, leaving leaflets in the backrooms of the Muggle bars he goes to, with AIDS and STI information. He asks himself what else he can do, and he writes to Remus more often than ever, and they talk about life; he is pretty sure Remus would have the answers if he were a bit closer. 

But in the end, he is _the one with the answers_ , is what Dorcas says one day, that _no one has the answer for other people's lives_ , and that _we are the ones who hold the keys and the answers_. So Sirius decides to get completely shitfaced because if he is the one who has the answers to his misery, then he’s thoroughly fucked. 

But March comes along, chilly and with terrible rain, bringing a weird sort of clarity to him. 

He sits alone in his kitchenette with books on careers, courses and several study paths. He cross-references his N.E.W.T.s grades with the career leaflets, then connects his interests with the careers he could apply for. He has never been nerdy like Remus, but he definitely got really good grades in all his N.E.W.T.s, Outstandings even. So he writes down a list and he gives himself a few days break to decide. 

He shares his ideas with his queer friends at drag night; they listen to himnd give him ideas, feedback. They talk hushedly about the reality of the world around them, how much they need to have a better-structured network, how they need to inform each other and keep safe, and how they yearn to be treated fairly and equally, and how everyone wishes they could talk about it openly, to be respected in the magical health services and the social care system.

So Sirius listens attentively and he decides responsibly. With a trembling scary feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

Suddenly, he feels like the city is terribly quiet as he cradles a cup of tea by his small windowsill, and lets the decision sink in deep inside his chest. It fills him with such a thrill—it's exciting like becoming an Animagus all over again, but terrifying as making one of the biggest decisions of his life.

He writes his decision to Remus and talks Lily’s and James’ ears off about it. Lily laughs at his enthusiasm and hypes him up even more. He writes to Raya, tells her everything—he even adds information about the guy he met last drag night and how fit he was. 

He tells Dorcas and Marlene during a very late lunch on Friday, before getting drunk with them at the pub, and also Gideon the next morning, when he wakes up disoriented,not in his own bed and being delightfully fingered by the ginger terror pressing against his back. 

Finally, he talks to Regulus; and his brother has a massive smile on his face. He says _consider it done,_ and that Sirius doesn’t need to mind about the course money, that he will have it sorted and that this is the least the Black family could do considering how shit they are. 

“You will be a great mediwizard, Sirius,” is what Regulus says with his eyes a bit wet and Sirius sniffs softly. They drink their tea in amiable silence, both of them being terrible when it comes to feelings. Before Regulus leaves though, he shouts from the stairs, “I’ll see you next week, Dr. Black.”

And Sirius cries, with his back against the door and a terrifying hope inside his chest.

ººº 

Sirius is not sure when it started. 

No, this is a lie. He is pretty sure it started when he was fifteen, in a bundle of teenage hormones, and it spiked during summer in Cardiff at the Potters’. Remus was lying on the grass under the warm sun, wearing only battered shorts. Bowie was playing far away on the radio. He can even remember the smell of the grass and the taste of cold pumpkin juice Effy had made for them. The feel of the breeze over his peeling shoulders and the sound of the water splashing on the lake as Peter and James jumped in and out of it. He stared at Remus for a long time, feeling a weird tug on his lower belly that felt like desire, but he wasn’t sure. He lay down by his side and let Moony’s strong boyish smell overpower him until it felt like his body was overheating. 

“Why do you smell like this?” he ended up asking, unable to control the impulse. The dog inside of him was ready to rub itself all over Remus and get that scent all over his fur. 

Remus blushed and shrugged. “Close to the full, I guess.” And maybe it was it, so Sirius shrugged in response and let it go. 

It grew and developped and Sirius found it hard to concentrate around Remus close to the full moon; it only got worse, as if the smell was luring him in. Until they got stupid drunk in the Gryffindor tower. James was kissing Mary MacDonald in a corner and Peter was sleeping drunkenly on the sofa by the fireplace, and Sirius couldn’t hold himself anymore. 

He was talking to Remus, walking up to their dorms to get a deck of cards and go back to the party, and they were laughing, and Sirius was feeling loose-limbed and warm and Moony was smelling so manly and strong, and Sirius felt lightheaded when they tumbled into their room, the door closing after them and Remus took a deep breath and then sighed, rubbing his eyes a bit too hard and Sirius knew. He knew that moment that Moony was smelling him too. 

And Remus, the good boy that he was, was trying against all instincts to keep away and to not reach out. But Sirius was a Black; Sirius was not a good boy. Actually, Sirius was the devil. So he walked straight to Remus, crowding him against the wardrobes, putting both his hands on the sides of Moony’s body and licking his lips. He was fairly drunk; they were both drunk, and stupid, and a spike of Gryffindor bravery was numbing his mind enough to let his craving speak louder than his rationality and fears. 

Sirius’ breath was shallow and fast because their bodies were too close and his heart was beating like a mad drum inside his chest. He was sweating and Remus was gaping at him, staring at his mouth, his own mouth wet and open, and his eyes were huge, pupils gone dark but with sparks of werewolf gold in his irises. 

“What are you doing, Padfoot?” he rasped. He sounded scared, but his voice was hoarse and deep, and Sirius whined like a dog and Remus groaned like a wolf. 

“I don’t know,” Sirius replied mindlessly, dropping his overheated face against Remus' neck and sniffing. “Oh gods,” he grunted and the heat of his body was a bit too much; he was feverish with it, and he was gagging for more, mad with desire. “Stop me,” he pleaded, his lips against the soft skin of Remus’ neck, where his scent was so strong and powerful. 

But Moony didn’t—he only grunted like a desperate caged animal and grabbed hold of Sirius’ shirt and pulled him closer, their chests pressing together, their hips touching and Remus groaned dangerously against Sirius’ ear. 

And suddenly, so suddenly, they were kissing. 

They were kissing in a way Sirius had never kissed any girl before. It was deep and wet and not polite at all, and their bodies were responding to it quite too fast and Sirius thought he was going to faint as they kissed and groped, and grunted and howled like animals, rutting against each other blindly and heatedly. 

That’s how it started. 

After that, it was all very hush-hush. They would get drunk and it would happen again, until Remus started dating a Hufflepuff girl and Sirius set his goal into snogging all queer boys from 6th and 7th years. 

Then, his parents got words about it and everything went to hell. 

He moved to the Potters’ during summer and Remus came to visit. They ended up having a very intense, emotional first time together in the guest room during a very hot summer night that ended with Sirius sobbing about his family all over Remus’ scarred chest. But afterwards, Moony felt very guilty about it all because the Hufflepuff girl was really sweet and they never did that again during seventh year. 

Only after graduation, with Remus very single and very manly with his new short beard and sunglasses and Sirius with his new tiny flat, did they pick things up where they left off. They ended up fucking a few times, not always drunk. That was before Remus finally got into the Curse Breaker course with a little help from Dumbledore. Greece was the only place that accepted werewolf wizards.

So Sirius goes to Greece.

He lands on the International Portkey Arrivals platform in Greece feeling the sudden heat enveloping him like a lover’s embrace. His heart is beating very fast and he is not sure why he is so nervous about this. It’s early May and he’s already got all his documents sorted out to start his Mediwizard studies during summer, with a long letter of recommendation from the one and only Minerva McGonagall. 

Sirius knows he won’t have time for crazy summer vacations for a while now; he course coordinator told him as much during the interview, before they accepted him in the training. He was kind of brutal, and Sirius thought they hated him, but he was honest and smart and explained his preference towards community and outreach health programmes, and they ended up selecting him. Almost top of the list. So he was very aware that from next month on, life would be only about studying and placements, so he took his savings and decided to use it in the best way possible. 

And the best way possible was to visit Moony.

Remus is waiting for him with a Muggle car parked outside the international Portkey station. They laughed and hugged, and Sirius breathed him in with desperation. Smelling salty like the sea breeze and warm as the sun, and Sirius’ eyes went wet with relief. 

“I missed your smell,” he mutters thickly against Remus skin. And Remus snorts, his fingers tangling in Sirius’ hair and pulling softly, in a sweet, possessive way. They look at each other, drinking in each other’s bodies and clothes and changes. It’s breathtaking, the way Remus stares at him as if he is hypnotised, and Sirius cannot stop staring at his beautiful eyes and his pillowy mouth. 

“Come in,” Moony says, holding Sirius' shoulders in his big tanned hands. “Before we start biting in plain sight,” he adds with a mischievous little smile that is new. New and sure of himself and masculine and nothing like the teen Moony who was always a bit too timid. 

Sirius jumps into the car and they spend the day talking about all the new things they have experienced while apart from each other. They talk about Remus’ course work, about Sirius mediwizard programme, about Bowie’s concert, about the wizarding queer community, about Raya and about a Chinese girl Remus dated last summer. They talk about life and family and their furry little problem and the full moon and about all the things they’d mentioned in letters. 

They swim on the Aegean sea and spend long hours lying under the sun, talking and drinking and eating the sandwiches Remus prepared for them. And it’s all grand and beautiful and Sirius thinks he is in a dream and he wishes to never end. 

By the time the reddish sun is setting on the horizon, they’re back in Remus’ small student studio, very close to the beach and then they finally kiss. 

They kiss and they kiss and they kiss. 

And this is new, because Remus is grabbing him by the hair possessively, pressing him against the wall, and Sirius is loving it, baring his neck to Moony and letting him bite on it and lick and suck. They feverishly shed their clothes in a heap. Remus is walking backwards and bringing Sirius with him, a commanding hand in his hair and his tongue exploring his mouth, and Sirius couldn’t ask for anything else in the fucking world.

They fall onto the mattress, kissing and hissing and thrusting against each other rather blindly. Remus’ hands roam over Sirius’ skin, as if trying to learn new secrets and patterns because they haven’t seen each other in more than a year. And Remus is kissing his shoulder and muttering something deep in his throat that Sirius can’t quite catch but it’s perfect anyway, and he smells delicious, a manly tang mixed with seawater. 

His head is spinning and Remus is sucking a deep bruise on the skin over his heart. 

And that’s it, really. This is real. This is the most real thing in Sirius' life. This is the only thing that never changes: this crazy feeling that makes his knees go weak and his mind go quiet. It’s always Remus and now they are here. 

“I missed you too,” Remus is saying and painting bruises over ugly tattoos, and Sirius is smiling down at him. Remus moves south, his eyes trained on Sirius’ face, his hair falling messily over his brow; it’s a bit longer than it was last year, and his pupils are dark and huge and feral. Sirius sees the moment that Remus' chin touches his cock before he feels it, in a mess of slight tremors. “What is—” 

And then it clicks. And Remus’ eyes go wide and he takes Sirius in his hand—a strong and capable hand, that is—and he stares at the head of his cock with a bewildered expression, tumultuous and crazed, at the metal barbell over velvety skin and he licks his lips. 

“This is new,” he stutters, too overwhelmed and looks up at Sirius. 

“You said it was hot, so...” And he cocks his head to the side, biting his bottom lip, watching Remus shiver at the sight and Sirius smiles sinfully, just like the manic feeling that is wrecking him from inside out, the wrecking sensation that has been bothering him since he was fifteen. “I thought you would like it.”

 _I did it for you_ , he wants to say. _I’m yours_ , he wants to offer. _Take me and eat me whole_ , is what his heart is shouting at each beat. _I’m tired of pretending this is not real_ , is how he feels _._

But he has no idea how to let the words out, so he whines loudly at Remus’ fingers exploration and thrusts his hips up, and moans as if possessed when Remus’ tongue touches the metal and wets his skin and it scorches like fire, like he’s been marked for life, with Remus mouth around him and his eyes pinning him down. 

So they explore and they touch and they kiss and Remus is saying “I’m riding you right now,” his mouth hot and wet against Sirius’ earlobe. And it's all so fast and intense, and soon enough Sirius’ fingers are prepping him, coaching him into lovely submission, but Remus is not a tamed beast and his desires are made of the moon and of fire, so he sits down on Sirius and groans like a predator, baring his teeth and grabbing at Sirius’ hair. And Sirius goes willingly, delighted to have Remus’ lead. 

And they embrace each other, hips moving in a sinful choreography, parted lips muttering and moaning and asking. It’s music, a concert; all his body is alive with sensation and Sirius is speaking.

He’s not even aware his mouth is moving and his voice is coming out in broken sobs, but he is saying it, he is finally saying it aloud and Remus is replying and it’s a fucking symphony. 

Because Sirius is saying “I fucking love you,” and sobbing and Remus is replying, “How dare you say it first,” and kissing him and then they are coming and sobbing and moaning and grabbing at each other with desperation. 

ººº

The masses are jumping all around him. 

He’s slightly drunk and his body feels relaxed and warm in the late summer breeze. The music is loud and energetic, his heart beating in sync with the bass. Marlene and Dorcas are dancing and jumping and throwing their arms up the sky and whipping their hair to one side and the other. It’s like a perfect flashback, but there’s no Raya with a witch hat around, and the solid, warm presence by his side is Remus, smoking a cigarette, eyes fixed on the stage, a pleasant smile on his lips as he enjoys the concert. 

Then everyone starts shouting as the playback stops and the thump-thump reaches a specific tempo and then Bowie is walking into the stage, and he looks otherworldly and Sirius smiles. His heart grows warm and the hairs of his arms start tingling. Because it is the only day he has off this week and Remus is here for vacations and baby Harry is only two weeks old, smelling like poop and milk and life is perfect. 

Sirius lights a fag, feeling Remus’ arm rounding his shoulders, and Remus plants a soft kiss on his temple as Bowie sings _rebel rebel, your face is a mess_ . Sirius listened to this song during the whole summer when he ran away from his parents’ house, over and over again, muttering along _you've got your mother in a whirl_ , with a sinking feeling of fear and desperation. But now, now he just loves it, and indeed, he’s _calamity’s child_ and it suits him rather well.

And they laugh as Dorcas points at Sirius theatrically, her eyes shining sapphire blue and shouting in a dramatic, zealous fashion, “God is among us!”. 

He whistles back and they all dance to the music. Because real life is a bit too dark in the quiet of night for queer folk, but there’s hope and there’s future and Sirius is ready to fight for them. 

His heart is blooming with the fresh taste of future and possibility and Remus is kissing his hair and whispering something dirty in his ear, making Sirius smirk dangerously while Bowie humours them singing _hot tramp, I love you so_ _!_

_the end._

**Author's Note:**

> Raya was shamelessly based and named after trans French model Raya Martigny, one of the most beautiful women alive <3  
> I hope you enjoyed the read, folks! I had a great time writing this fic, would love to hear your thoughts on it! <3


End file.
